


sing hallelujah

by selinipainter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: (kinda? sorta), Dark World compliant, Gen, self mutilation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3153224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selinipainter/pseuds/selinipainter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Parents should never bury their kids."</p><p>There are far too often kids who never get to bury their parents.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sing hallelujah

Loki stirred from his restless slumber. There was a silence that wrapped Asgard, a silence so deep that it even pervades his cell. In the unnatural quiet, Loki sat up. He could do naught but await the guards to bring the news. He smirked; perhaps the Dokkalfar had gained a major victory. He knew they were here. How could he not, when the defences used earlier tugged on his seiðr. It sung to him even as the blasts echoed down to his prison. After all, he had been the one who strengthened those defences. Constructed quite a few too.

Not soon after, the Kurse had broken out. The other prisoners save him, were free. Better them than he. He desired not the battle for his freedom. There were far better ways, less bloody ways to garner liberation. He would find a way out of this cell. A sense of ozone pervaded the cell, breaking his reading.

‘Thor.’

Thor, golden Prince, _only prince brother_ , had spared not a glance at him even as he dealt with the prisoners. The dark tendril tightened around his mind, curled around his thoughts.

 _(cast you aside, threw you into the abyss, e n e m y,_ jotunn _monsterabomination)_

_No. NO. None could reach me here; no one could touch me here. Not even them._

xxx

 Loki fell on his bed, gracelessly in a sprawl of limbs and drowsed uneasily. The silence that woke him remained. He picked up a book, awaiting news. They could not have forgotten about their prisoner so easily. No. Not him, not Loki Laufeyson, the false Odinson, Liesmith, oath breaker, king killer, world breaker. Loki no longer of Asgard, never of Jotunheim, Loki of nowhere.

Then, the guard came. Loki looked up from the book, the book which he never turned a page of and watched the guard.

Four words. Four simple words. He registered them not, held them in his memory, held them there while he dealt with the guard. He opened his mouth but only naught was left of his voice.

_Silver tongue turned to lead?_

He clamped down on the sickness that rises up, it mattered not. There was a catch in his throat, a grip that dragged every breath stuttering, shuddering out of his mouth. His chest ached, so strange. Loki nodded and waited for the guard to leave.

A turn, fourteen steps up and the guard was finally out of sight. Loki tried to speak again, speak out the words. Purge it out, but words would not come. His silver tongue finally silenced.

“The queen is dead.”

The words echoed in him. The queen, his mother, _amma_. His brave, kind mother who had taken him into her heart when she should have cast him out of Asgard. Cast him away from the golden halls that he had so haunted and brought shame upon. His mother who had never forgotten him, who had procured him books and all possible comforts to pass his sentence with. The ache persisted and strengthened, he longed to claw his heart out.  And the rage that comes upon him at the thoughts of his mother, it felled him like lightning.

_(monster silvertongue, what mother could love you, it was pity, pity for the stolen relic to be made use of. broken relic now, what use is there? )_

_My son, always my son._

He knows not how the cell was destroyed. Knows not how exactly had he decimated the furniture. He broke his nails when he shredded the desk, this he remembers. Simply because he felt nothing save the terrible gnawing ache in his chest, even as the red blooms from beneath the nail beds. The tattered cloth drifted to the floor to lie with wood chips and crushed metal. Spent, he fell against the wall and slid to the floor.

He tilted his head. There are bloody footprints around him. And the books, his precious books that Frigga had brought for him, all shredded. He felt no pain now. None at all. Is this what it felt like to be dead, to be empty and lost? Oh, how like the void this was. Thanos could not touch him here, in his grief. Loki wished he could feel relief at this, but all he knows now is a gnawing chasm, an emptiness, a black hole that lurked where his heart should have been.

The rage abated. He knew it would not be long before it returns, just as strong.  And he would welcome it. Hone it to become a cold blade that he will drive through the óhroða that killed her.

_Amma Amma AmmaAmmaAmma AMMA_

And Loki, Loki Friggjarson, Frigga’s skjór. Loki son of none forevermore. Loki all alone screamed. There was no one who would listen anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a really old piece, dated about two days after Dark World. I am sorry if it is horrible, but I feel it is complete as it can be and though I tried to edit it, it well insisted on remaining the same save for some grammar edits.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Any feedback is greatly appreciated.


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